PreviousThe trip to the front is a week of uninterrupted quiet. The soldiers, including Eve, are restless and nervous, none more than Gezaru, on whose shoulders lie the burden of 49 other men, most of them recruits.
On the 7th day the soldiers reach the main camp. The battlefield is an abandoned farm - miles and miles of wilted wheat and on each side tents and tarps and waiting men. Gezaru is given orders to hold his position as a reserve force, much to his relief. According to his superiors the battle has been pitched for 6 consecutive days with each side reinforcing as their numbers dwindle. The end of the battle is not yet in sight, and the enemy shows no signs of giving ground or retreating. In fact, rumors have begun to spread that a major reserve force is marching toward the front, estimates put the reserve at twice the size of the enemy's current force. But the truth of this rumor is uncertain.
In the morning, Gezaru and his men are ordered to hold behind the main troops along the left flank. He relays these orders to his own men. The two armies form ranks and files, the thunder of their unified footsteps almost breaking the earth beneath their feet. Then when everyone is in position, there is a moment of silence so awful and total it feels like suffocation. And then the drums begin to
play. And the men begin to scream. And their feet begin to charge.
The force of bronze on bronze reverberates through the wind. You watch on in wonder as men rip each other to pieces over several inches of earth, as luck and fate are dissolved and reborn within the same instant. A man throws his spear at a young boy, half his size. The boy brings his shield up in time to deflect the blow. He looks down at the bent spear-tip in wonder, proud of his own strength and speed. Then an arrow spits through his chest and he falls, never to rise again. On the right flank, you watch as an enemy squad is encircled, thrown into disarray and fear. They drop their weapon and try to flee, a hail of arrows catches their backs. You know they will not be buried like the others, but will have cowards' funerals.
You watch as men are trampled underfoot of other men, as brain-meat is dashed across the wheat-fields by horse hooves and the butts of spears. You watch as elbows are torn out of their sockets and entrails are pulled out of bellies. Each side pushes forward, and then each is pushed back. You can see the blood of foes on each man's chest, covering his eyes and face. Bits of foe-flesh on their armor and on the ends of their spears. You can hear the fear of the new and the relish of the old. The subtle taunts and curses, the cries of mercy and the screams of mercy not given. And the eyes, so many and of so many kinds. Surprised eyes, angry, grieving eyes, eyes full of terror, eyes that do not bend, uncaring eyes, dead eyes. Dead eyes that look ahead but see nothing.
And the men remembered the sight of their wives, and the taste of their lips. The feel of good earth between their fingers, or the supple udders of their cows, or the small hands of their daughters around their necks. The smell of roasting meat, newborn sons held in their arms, the smell of their beloved's hair beneath their chins. And then the smell of bronze, of dust, and the smell of rust in blood. The sight of the sky, and then no more of the fair earth forever.
And then you know. You know it and know it. That the multitudinous creatures of this earth, of the sea and of the air make meals of each other, but the race of men alone, make war.
"Poetry. Isn't it?" You turn around to face Ishtar, reclined as before, in the same dress as before, wearing the same expression of amused indifference, as before. "Herein lies the essence of man, here he strikes the primal chord. Look to him, Arlore, see his nature unfold like a rose at dawn. Is he not driven by base things? But look at the beauty of his execution. The arc of bronze, or the timbre of drums, the strain of muscle against muscle. Sublime. And honest."
"I beg to differ dear sister. War is deception. Look there! See how Dukara falsely retreats his men to draw in his opponent. He has potential, that one. Or...there! See his faint? That twitch on his left shoulder? A masterful bluff. Ah but Amur is no honest man either, look how he hides his troops behind the woods, he will slaughter those recent recruits retreating there. Cold, that one. Or-"
"-Enough! Can't you leave me be George? Go pester someone else."
"What? Its my domain as much as yours. Right Arlore? What do you think?"
"Leave the little god out of it, what does he know?"
"Don't be so uptight sister. You'll get wrinkles."
"You know I can hurt you right?" Silence for a few minutes.
"I'm bored. Why don't we make this interesting sister?"
"If you're bored just leave."
"Come now, sister, you used to love these little games. I know you want to play"
"...fine. What do you have in mind?"
"There you are! Hmm, how about a wager?"
"I'm listening"
"I'll bet that Attergar and his company can beat any you name."
"Like hell that'll happen. I'll bet on Dukara's personal guard."
"That's cheating sister!" She laughs wickedly.
"Can't chicken out now Georgie, look! Looklooklook, there he goes, my Bupolu. He's spotted your puny Attergar, trying to sneak on Dukara. Tsk, tsk, someone is going be taught a lesson today."
"I don't think so." George murmurs this so that only you can hear it. Then he winks at you and rolls up his sleeves revealing a pair of hairy arms. He twirls his fingers like a conductor. Suddenly on the battlefield, Bupolu's cavalry is flanked by troops hiding in the woods. He manages to retreat his forces before they are overtaken and destroyed.
"Cheap trick George. That was a cheap trick."
"You started it, sis."
"Let's go again. I bet-"
"Wait sister, we're being rude. We haven't asked Arlore if wants to play." You are still watching the troops that emerged from the woods, they are surrounded by the enemy now and are being picked off by archers.
"Arlore!"
"Yes, madam! What can I do for you?"
"Polite isn't he?" She asks George.
"Yes, he is." George watches you with the kind of curiosity possessed by those seeing a circus freak for the first time.
"Do you want to play?" He asks.
"Play?"
"Yes, wager."
"What are the stakes?"
"Good question. Sister?"
"Hmm, you win, I'll answer three of your questions to best of my knowledge. When it comes to matters within my domain - well, I leave nothing unturned. Or I can give your little girl a present. Something to show she is a welcome guest in my...home" She raises her arms and gestures at the battlefield.
"And if I lose?" She smiles her predator smile.
"You'll owe me one. And I collect a lot sooner than Muta does."
"So? Are you in?"
What do you do?
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